You gave him your love, your heart, and your trust. He sent you a text that said "My wife found out about us. I will always care about you, but I have to try to save my marriage. Please understand." Then he was gone, and you were alone in the same room where he had made love to you so many times, and had promised you so many things, and it hurt so much you could hardly breathe, but even in that horrible moment of pain and betrayal and insensitivity, all you wanted to do was run into his arms and beg him to return. Why? Because he's such an amazing man that no matter how he much he hurts you, he is deserving of your love?


No, it's because you're an idiot. Get over it. He did.

This blog is dedicated to the broken-hearted, the emotionally maligned, and the romantically bereft. I am not a psychologist, therapist, or counselor, only a woman who knows the pain of heartache and wants to share her experiences with others in the hope that they will take comfort in realizing that heartbreak is a universal affliction and that they do not suffer alone. Comments are welcome, silence is understood. Because hell is for heartbreakers, and it's a journey they will make on their own. But for every broken heart, there is an angel waiting in the darkness, for every tear, a speck of sparkling sunlight, and for every night of sorrow, a new tomorrow and another chance to love and be loved again.



Still beating? Not beaten...


About Me

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I love my grown children, miss all the dogs I ever had, and I cry at the drop of a hat, I believe in true love, destiny, fairness, and compassion. If I could be anywhere right now, it would be the ocean. My favorite city is New York, but I am always longing for London and craving more time in Copenhagen. I'm drawn to desolate places, deserted buildings, and unknown byways. I don't care how society perceives me as long as my gut tells me that what I'm doing is right. I am interested in paranormal things, spiritual things, historical things, and things that glow at night. I like to drink, I smoke when I write, I can't stand small talk, and despite my quick temper, I would rather kiss than fight. I'm selfish with my writing time, a spendthrift with my love. My heart has been broken so many times that it's held together with super glue and duct tape. The upside is that, next time, I won't be tempted to give away what I no longer have to give. But I will let you buy me a Pink Squirrel.


The heart has its reasons that reason does not know

Saturday, May 4, 2013


Okay, so my friends think I need to offset my tears-and-moaning heartbreak posts with something a little more upbeat. Never mind that these posts are written for a blog dedicated to chronicling my descent into and my struggles to overcome a heartbroken condition. I mean, have they not noticed that it's called "Hell is For Heartbreakers"? But at any rate, to appease them without going too far off the subject, I offer this post on five things that I would like to do if I had unlimited access to funds, time, and energy. They came up with the catagories. I'm just playing along. So, here goes...

1.) If I could visit any city in the world...

My gut response would be New York, London, or Copenhagen, the three cities where I have family and friends and have already spent many pleasant and exciting hours doing things that I don't have time to describe. But of course my friends want me to name a city that I haven't already visited. So in that case, I would have to go with Prague. Why? Because it has amazing old cemeteries (no, I'm not being morbid; I loved exploring old cemeteries long before I came down with broken heart disease), and its ancient streets and alleyways are so intertwined and intricately designed that invading Nazi troops got lost in them during World War II. If nothing else, I'd like to give Prague a high-five for that one.

2.) If I could build or buy any style of house I desired...

This is an easy one. I've lived in some nice houses, including the Elizabethan cottage-style house that my ex-husband built for us when we were first married and in which my younger son was born, but there are really only two styles of houses that I've ever considered my "dream homes": an old Victorian (painted gray, white, or possibly pink) and an 18th-century style saltbox painted revolutionary war red. I know, as designs go, they're pretty much diametrically opposed. But even though I'm drawn to both, if I had to choose (gun to my head, etc), I'd have to go with the Victorian. But only if I also had access to unlimited funds to furnish half of it with wonderful antiques and the other half with cool steampunk stuff. And it would be a definite bonus if it were haunted, but only by a ghost who limited its activity to sporadic raps and the occasional blowing out of candles. Knowing that your house is haunted is one thing, seeing the thing that haunts it is a whole other ball of ectoplasm.

3.) If I could start my own charity...

No brainer, this one. Dogs. I love dogs, I miss every single dog I ever had and lost, and if I could start my own charity, it would have something to do with rescuing abused and/or homeless dogs, rehabilitating them, and matching them with loving, caring owners. I would like to start another charity to do the same for cats and horses, but apparently I'm limited to one. So dogs it is. No bones about it.

4.) If I could choose one completely useless item to buy...

Again with the no brainer. As long as I can remember, I've wanted a genuine vintage carousel horse of my own, and which would serve absolutely no purpose save that of looking gorgeous and cool in my living room. If it could be black, with stars and flowers on its saddle and reins that would only add to the joy and euphoria I would feel every time I looked at it...which would be pretty damned often, I can assure you.

5.) If I could start my own theme bar or restaurant...

Okay...caveat. I don't want to start my own theme bar or restaurant, and if for some reason I did, it would have to be with the understanding that I never had to actually work there or be responsible for the day to day management of the place. I'm not a food service person. I write and I sing. That's the extent of my gifts. But if I could start one and hand over the daily operations to a skilled and trusted staff who would ensure that we all profited handsomely from their efforts on behalf of the place, I think it would be kind of cool to open up psuedo-Victorian bar and grill, with the waitstaff all decked out in steam punk attire, the drinks and entrees named after famous 19th century writers and poets (the house drink would be absinthe, of course), and there would be nothing but gaslight for illumination. Oh...and a stuffed raven somewhere. And No TV, no stereo. And no cell phones allowed on the floor. Just one old crank-style phone in one dim corner. Hell, I'd even stop by to hang out myself. And I'd call it "Nightmare Abbey" after the novel by Thomas Love Peacock. Or maybe "Lost Lenore's" It would depend on whether I could actually come up with that stuffed raven.

Alright, then. This completes my concession to my friends' obsession with my need to write a post on something other than my broken heart. And now that I've done so, I can get back to my real work...and that includes writing about my broken heart...because that's how I'm getting through it, and if I can do it, then that's good news for others as well. (I may be self-absorbed when it comes to my broken heart, but I'm not selfish, damn it.)

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